


you win this one

by cozyTeacups



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a bastard (Good Omens), Crowley is also a Bastard (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff, Flustered Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23976055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozyTeacups/pseuds/cozyTeacups
Summary: "Crowley skids into the kitchen, and scrambles towards the steaming black mug that Aziraphale is reaching towards. 'You’d better not, angel!' he says as he slides himself hand-first between Aziraphale and the tea.'Good morning to you, too, dear.' Aziraphale says calmly, picking up his own half-empty mug from the counter, attempting to hide his smile behind the rim of the cup, not breaking his teasing stare. 'So glad you could join me.'"
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 102





	you win this one

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first Good Omens fic, well actually it's my first fic at all. I love these idiots so much and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! :) love you all! <3

It was a calm morning in South Downs. The sun was just rising above the trees– you wouldn’t know it however, for a heavy cloud of fog had settled itself quite comfortably along the hills and mountains. The fog dipped into each valley and had slowly rolled itself over a small cottage in Devil’s Dyke, inside which was an angel and a demon.

  
  


Aziraphale sighed as he looked out of the kitchen window, setting his mug of tea on the counter before him with a small ‘clink’. He passed by the wooden dining table, which was currently home to an open basket, filled for the moment only with cutlery, small plates and wine glasses. Aziraphale walked quietly through the lounge and down into the hallway. Opening the door at the end of it and peeking his head inside. 

The room was dim, the only light coming from a row of large windows opposite him. Aziraphale searched the bed in the center of the room and clicked his tongue softly as he found a messy pool of dark hair peeking out from under the fluffy duvet. He made his way across the floor to the side of the bed, smiling as Crowley slowly came into view. 

He was wearing his hair long and was experimenting with more colours these days, Aziraphale was happy to see him trying different things, of course, even though a week ago he had sternly dismissed the offer of Crowley “restyling” him for the day. (Although, he had to admit it was hard to deny him when he was looking so utterly eager to do so, but, luckily for Aziraphale, Crowley had resigned himself with a dramatic turn back down the hall just before he was about to give in.) 

Both himself and Crowley had seemed to change somewhat after the Apocalypse had almost occurred. Crowley, for example, was much less on edge than the angel had ever seen him. The dark circles under his eyes had subsided enough for Aziraphale to notice a clear change, and the deep crease between his eyebrows had seen less abuse in recent weeks. He tucked his hands neatly in front of him to resist the sudden desire to smooth his thumb over the evidence of past worry, as if he could wipe it away with a soft touch. 

The urge subsided enough that Aziraphale could sit down on the edge of the bed, ankles crossing neatly. As he did so, Crowley stirred with a scrunch of his face, turning on his side and facing the angel with a long sigh. 

Aziraphale gently placed a hand on the demon’s shoulder, “Crowley,” he said quietly, “wake up, dear.” The demon himself only responded with a drawn-out, sleepy groan as he pulled the duvet up to cover his head. Crowley always made a fuss when getting up in the morning. Once again, Aziraphale clicked his tongue as he tried to coax the blankets back down with a single hand. “Crowley, it’s almost noon, I have tea brewing for you in the kitchen.” He tried again, slowly revealing two barely open golden eyes from beneath the covers. 

Crowley made an unconvinced noise again, and kept everything below his nose firmly wrapped in the duvet. He was however awake, which was a solid win in Aziraphale’s book. He stood and began to walk towards the door once more, aware of Crowley watching his steps. Then, Aziraphale smiled mischievously, “Oh dear, then I suppose I’ll have to drink the last of the cinnamon apple tea all by my lonesome…” with a forlorn sigh, Aziraphale opened the door and walked out swiftly towards the kitchen—followed quickly by the thump and subsequent swears of what Aziraphale presumes is Crowley tripping out of the door in the hallway. 

Crowley skids into the kitchen, and scrambles towards the steaming black mug that Aziraphale is reaching towards. “You’d better not, angel!” he says as he slides himself hand-first between Aziraphale and the tea.

“Good morning to you, too, dear.” Aziraphale says calmly, picking up his own half-empty mug from the counter, attempting to hide his smile behind the rim of the cup, not breaking his teasing stare. “So glad you could join me.” 

Crowley narrowed his eyes at him, but the poorly-smothered smile that played on his lips betrayed his cold expression. “You’re so cruel to me,” He said, picking up the cup of hard-earned tea and leaning against the counter. “Threaten me with my favourite… that’s dirty.” He mumbles as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“ _ Threaten _ you?” Aziraphale returns incredulously, knowing he’s doing quite a miserable job of not looking too pleased with himself. “Why, I could never.” To further press his innocence, he (only a little smugly) materialized a very faint halo to surround his head with a smile. 

Crowley batted at the halo with one hand, the other busy trying not to spill his drink, his hand phasing right through the dim ring of light. “Put that thing away, you cheeky bastard.” Crowley said as he tried to push it off of Aziraphale’s head once more. 

Aziraphale let it fade away slowly, and raised his eyebrows in victory, mug still raised to his mouth. 

“Stop that.” Crowley pulled a sour face, but eventually just sighed. “Fine, yeah, you win that one.” He drained the last of his tea and rinsed the cup before turning back. “What’s the plan today, then? I mean, if there is one.” He said, stretching back against the counter. 

“Oh! Well,” started Aziraphale, remembering his morning before waking Crowley as he motioned to the kitchen table a few feet away, where the half full basket still sat. “I was hoping we could go for a picnic, at one of reservoirs a bit north from here.” Aziraphale smiled before continuing, “I wasn’t sure as to what you would like to bring with us food-wise, but I did pop over to the market earlier and brought home some lovely fruit and cheeses, I would also very much like to bring a bottle of our Duca Rosa Imperiale...” he pauses, suddenly feeling a touch self-conscious about his rambling. “If you would like to go, that is.” He finished with a squeak. Where had the confidence from a moment ago gone, he wondered?

“I-” Crowley cleared his throat quickly, “Of course I wanna go. Sounds like a plan.” He nodded once—and then suddenly remembered that he was still in his pyjamas. “I’ll go get dressed, then” he said cooly, turning his head as he began walking back through the lounge. On a last thought, he called over his shoulder, “And I’ll leave what we bring to you, angel. You know best with that sort of thing.” 

And then Crowley was in front of his closet, one hand on his cheek, (which certainly did  _ not _ feel warmer than usual) and eyes wide. He took a steadying breath and went to pick out his clothes. Crowley was a touch taken aback of course, with the angel’s suggestion. It really wasn’t that long ago that the notion of going for a picnic (or anything of the like) was much too forward for Aziraphale, and he was probably thinking unnecessarily hard about the implications of this outing. Aziraphale had probably forgotten that he had even said anything like that in the past, and just wanted to enjoy a sunny summer day doing summer-type-things. At that, Crowley looked out the window across the room. The fog was still low and swirling outside turning the sky grey and cool, just as it was before. Alright, so then enjoying a foggy day.  _ With him _ . Crowley turned his head pointedly back into his closet, hiding his eager face within folds of silk and cotton.

* * *

After quite a bit longer than usual, Aziraphale heard Crowley enter the kitchen behind him. Aziraphale had been packing the basket full to the brim with all manner of things to nibble on, and he was currently tucking a rather enticing bundle of red grapes on top of a small loaf of French-style bread. He heard Crowley pull out a chair at the table behind him and sit down with a small flop and a huff. He could then hear him fiddling around with something on the table, and so Aziraphale turned to see. He turned, yes, and then subsequently turned right back around to stare into the cupboard with a suddenly hot face. 

Crowley was wearing an absurdly low cut top, in fact, it seemed so much so that the fabric over his shoulders connected somewhere just above his navel. It was a deep, royal purple, gold embroidery up and around the cuffs, and most definitely made out of a smooth, flowing silk. His eyes would certainly match perfectly with the swirling designs circling his wrists, he would say for sure, but they were covered with a pair of round, gold-rimmed sunglasses now, lenses dark and sultry. Aziraphale took a deep breath, and began to absently search the cupboard for nothing at all as he prepared himself to turn back around. He hadn’t even seen what Crowley was toying with on the table—or if he did, he couldn’t remember what on Earth it was. 

He eventually worked up the composure to turn again, and had a quite a difficult time remembering to look at what Crowley had.  _ ‘Oh.’ _ He held a golden chain necklace and was having a go at convincing the clasp to open, and “ _ Stay open goddammit. _ ” Crowley breathed. He tried to quickly move the clasp behind his head, but it clicked back closed somewhere around his ear. Crowley grumbled something Aziraphale had to say was  _ not very nice _ to the necklace, as he placed it roughly on the table. 

Aziraphale had been watching the whole ordeal rather dumbly, and as he snapped back to the world before him he calmly reached for the necklace. Crowley began to speak as he tried to reach for the chain back, “It’s not happening, angel, this new style of necklace has impossible closures—”

“I can do it.” Said Aziraphale suddenly, firmly gripping the necklace in his hands. 

One of Crowley’s eyebrows twitched upwards vaguely, but he put his hands up and turned his back towards Aziraphale. “Knock yourself out, then.” Crowley pulled his long hair over one shoulder with his slender hands. 

Aziraphale almost immediately regretted his decision to help.

Nonetheless, he took to the clasp with some difficulty, but that was almost entirely due to the way that his hands had started shaking. After a few stumbling tries he got it firmly open and stepped closer to drape the golden chain around Crowley’s neck. He had his eyes closed patiently and was absently combing his fingers through his lengthy hair, dark eyelashes fanned out over high cheeks, slender neck bare—  _ ‘Oh, good  _ _ gracious _ _ , get a hold of yourself, Aziraphale.’ _ The angel clipped the necklace together gently behind Crowley’s neck, trembling fingers brushing his nape slightly when pulling back. 

Aziraphale shuddered out a sigh and said, “Well, there you go, necklace secure, looks lovely; let’s get on with this then, shall we?” Aziraphale closed the picnic basket a bit too quickly and began bustling around the kitchen, absently puffing about extra things to bring with them. 

Crowley made a quick sound of agreement, and looked out the kitchen window, away from Aziraphale. He had felt Aziraphale’s nervous hands brush his neck, felt his sigh, brimming with intense energy, ghost his ear. Hidden in his dark hair, Crowley’s fingers were surely quaking with the same anxiety. His face was almost certainly slipping from the serene calmness he’s trying  _ so hard _ to maintain, and sliding into something much more smitten and dizzying. 

* * *

It was about half past noon when Crowley loaded the basket, wine, blanket in the backseat of the Bentley. Aziraphale was already in the passenger’s seat, hands tucked neatly in front of him as he looked out the window to their cottage. Crowley glanced at it for a moment as well, taking a mental note that the rose bush Aziraphale insisted on planting below the kitchen window was not flowering quite as brilliantly as Crowley had expected. He gave it a quick pointed glare and mouthed, _‘I’ll be back for you’_ menacingly before slinking back down into the driver’s seat and shutting the door solidly. 

Crowley turned the keys with a flourish, the engine of the Bentley roaring to life. They set off down the gravel drive, the sound of stones kicking up against the body of the car making Crowley cringe and slow a bit until they reached the paved main road. 

They started on their way and noted that the fog had hardly let up, even though it was pressing close to the afternoon. Crowley drove reasonably slower than he usually did, secretly finding that this had been one of the most comfortable drives he had ever been a part of. 

Aziraphale sat beside him with an open book, and seemed quite enthralled with its contents. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was one of the new poetry books that Aziraphale bought back in Soho. Crowley rarely saw Aziraphale with a book that was newer than 1947, the black paperback looked quite out of place with the other two dusty leather books that lay in the backseat. 

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale for a moment, his eyes flickered across the page and his mouth twitched slightly with each word he read. Crowley smiled fondly to himself and turned back to the road. “Reading something good, angel?” He said quietly, a little sorry to disturb his reading, but genuinely curious nonetheless. 

After a few moments Aziraphale finished the page, and looked up. “Indeed, I am,” He stated with a dreamy sigh, closing the book with one finger between the pages to keep his place. “Courtney Peppermill’s  _ Pillow Thoughts _ , it really is quite different from what I usually read, but the change is well appreciated.” Crowley peeked at the cover for any clue of the contents, but was met only by a simple white jellyfish.

Crowley shifted in his seat as he brought the car around a bend in the road, “Lot of things seem to be changing these days.” He really ought to let Aziraphale return to his book, but the urge to just keep talking to him was hard to resist. 

Apparently, Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind all that much, from the way he placed a bookmark in his book and set it lightly in his lap. “I’d have to agree with you on that, dear.” he says with a small huff of laughter. He was silent for a moment, and then Crowley heard him turn in his seat, then back again. 

He let his eyes shift once more to where Aziraphale sat, he was watching Crowley, but quickly turned his head to look out the windscreen. Crowley continued to see his lips purse as if to contain a question that was threatening to spill out. And, if Crowley was a bit concerned about what the angel was holding in, he certainly didn’t let it show. He let Aziraphale have the time he needed to work up the confidence to ask, shifting his gaze back to the road before him and pretending he didn’t notice in the first place. 

After a few more moments, Aziraphale slowly began to speak. “Where… I mean, that is…” the angel paused briefly, before continuing, “I… I’ve never seen you wear that shirt before, is it new?” 

Crowley closed his eyes for a moment and released a long, silent breath.  _ ‘Really, angel? That’s all? You are truly ridiculous.’ _ He opened his eyes once more with a chuckle. “Ah, this thing? Bought it just before we came down to the cottage, though this is the first time I’ve worn it out.” Crowley explained with a small grin, “D’you like it? I thought it was  _ quite _ dashing—” 

“Yes!” said Aziraphale quickly, surprising Crowley as much as he seems to have surprised himself. “I- well, I mean yes, I think it suits you quite well.” he said with a small cough, Crowley watched him turn swiftly to look out the side window once more. 

Crowley blinked a few times to himself, “I’m pleased that you enjoy it so… viscerally” Crowley commented with a simper. ( _ Honestly,  _ he couldn’t help himself when he saw the way that Aziraphale sputtered at that comment)  _ ‘So this is the way to fluster him? I’ll be damned.’  _ He will have to be sure to store this information in his brain for future use down the road; with only  _ slightly _ devilish intentions, of course. Although, at the same time he decided that, he also concluded that it can be used just as well for further goading in the present, too. 

Crowley all but subtly pulled his left arm back to rest on the center console, his right arm outstretched lazily to drape his wrist over the steering wheel, the shirt now drifting a few inches down around his left shoulder. He let out a small sigh that some may have commented was overdone, but the effect it had when the movement caused his long hair to fall over his clavicle was just as planned. Aziraphale let out a soft, strangled noise beside him, but Crowley only focused his gaze out into the fog through his sunglasses, glad that they helped to disguise the thrilled and teasing face he was trying to hide. 

Aziraphale, however, was once again having an extremely hard time looking anywhere but Crowley. He knew the demon was taunting him, and the thought made it  _ that much harder _ to look away, somehow. Aziraphale swallowed dryly before ripping his eyes away, closing them to keep from turning back. “T-Try as you will, fiend, you can’t tempt me.” He retorted pathetically, crossing his arms in defiance. Aziraphale subsequently cursed himself as he tried to ignore the soft sound of Crowley’s hissing laughter.

He opened his eyes after he collected himself, and found himself being watched with an openly complacent expression, slitted eyes over dark sunglasses. With a half-hearted puff of air, Aziraphale pushed himself back into the car’s leather seat in defeat. “Fine,” he said as he rolled his eyes, suppressing an amused smirk “you can stop with that face now Crowley—and watch the road.” He finished sternly, gesturing vaguely to the windscreen.

Crowley shifted both of his hands back to the wheel and turned back to the road, still smirking as he took another turn, slowing as they reached an empty car park at the edge of one of the Down’s reservoirs. 

“That’s payback for the tea, angel. I don’t make the rules.” He said, parking the Bentley close to the trail leading down along the wooded bank. He switched off the engine and stepped out of the car with one last teasing wink to Aziraphale as he collected the picnic set from the backseat. 

* * *

They had easily found a suitable spot not too far from the bank, in a small clearing just edging on the tree line. The fog had risen and cleared out a bit since they embarked on their journey, but was still present enough to be notable. It gave good cover from the summer sun that would occasionally peek through to the Earth’s surface, allowing the air surrounding the reservoir to warm to a comfortable temperature. 

Crowley had set out their (insufferably tartan) blanket on the ground under a particularly large ash tree and Aziraphale went to work setting out two wine glasses, two plates, two sets of cutlery; followed by spreading out the various foods he had packed for them to share, and concluded with a liberal pouring of red wine into each of their glasses. 

For as far as Crowley could tell, Aziraphale had forgiven him for the torment he put him through in the car earlier, and he sat with legs stretched out, back straight with a hand on the ground to steady himself. Crowley lounged in one of the few sunny spots that graced their little blanketed area, sprawling out on his back and basking in a way that made him almost want to curl up here as a serpent instead. 

He and Aziraphale drained most of their bottle of wine steadily over around an hour or so, it currently sat with only about a quarter of its contents still intact. They chatted about all manner of things, only poking fun and ruffling each other’s feathers a  _ few _ times. 

Their conversation had occasionally lulled into comfortable silence, Aziraphale reading one of his books and picking through most of the grapes, passing a few to Crowley with a nudge as he lay, dozing beside him. Slowly, Crowley had fallen asleep there—Aziraphale had only noticed this when he held out a piece of white cheddar for Crowley, without looking up from his book.

He had held it out for a good thirty seconds before looking over his reading glasses to find his companion breathing softly in the warm, misty afternoon. Aziraphale placed the cheese back into the picnic basket for him later and attempted to return to his book. He kept finding his eyes roving to peek around the edge of his book at Crowley. Eventually, he defeatedly plopped the book down in his lap.

_ ‘Really,’ _ Aziraphale sighed, looking out over the water beyond.  _ ‘I’m hopeless.’ _ He glanced back down at Crowley’s sleeping form, he had one arm pulled around his head to cushion it against the ground beneath them. The angel noticed, too, that he had fallen asleep with his sunglasses still perched on his nose. 

Aziraphale had realized his feelings for Crowley somewhere around 1833, when thinking back on their run-ins throughout history, being pleasantly surprised that each time they saw each other just so happened to be a highlight of his time on Earth. His feelings were solidified in 1941 when Crowley saved him from being foolishly discorporated once again—saved his prized first edition prophecy books, too—and since then Aziraphale had become quite useless when it came to where his willpower and this demon were involved. It took him some time to figure out how he was to express his feelings, what he was comfortable with. Aziraphale may be a little bit of a bastard, ( _ ‘No,’ _ he amended, _ ‘a very big bastard.’ _ ) but Crowley has always been so unwaveringly patient with him, ever since the beginning. 

Aziraphale’s fingers twisted in his lap as he thought, watching each breath enter and leave Crowley’s body. His long hair was once again pooling around his head and shoulders in such a lovely way, Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile warmly. He reached out a hand absently to push a few dark strands from his face, but he caught himself halfway through the action. He clenched his hand back slightly, and watched with a small frown. He noticed the light turning dim as a thick cloud rolled in front of the sun. Crowley was always so patient with him. It really was a bit unfair of him to be so forward all at once. 

All the same, just being here with him now pulled at Aziraphale’s heart in an unfamiliar way. Scrunching his eyes closed, he let out a quiet and strained noise as he pushed a balled hand against his forehead.  _ ‘Why must this all be so complicated?’ _ Aziraphale thought miserably. He sighed once more and opened his eyes, dropping the hand back to his lap.

He gazed down at Crowley once more, eventually giving in to his earlier wish and gently, albeit with some determination, pushed aside some of the hair obscuring Crowley’s face. His hand lingered in his hair for a moment, resting by his cheek.

Before he had the chance to remove it, Crowley turned his head into the touch with a deep breath and a twitch of his mouth. Aziraphale’s heart stopped, and he was  _ quite _ frozen. Had he woken him up? Is he overstepping? He glanced at Crowley’s chest for a moment, realized no obvious change in his breathing, and looked back to his face, now fully resting against the angel’s nervous hand. Aziraphale let out a shaking breath as he ran his fingers through the soft locks for a short length, returning to his cheek to do so again. 

For the first few passes his hand moved slow and feather-light, searching for any signs that Crowley opposed the sensation. After finding none, he let his trembling fingers sink a bit deeper into Crowley’s hair on the next few strokes. Soon Aziraphale fell into a rather calming rhythm of running his fingers from roots to ends, roots to ends; and the sun had appeared again from behind the fog. 

After a while, Aziraphale ended up laying on his side, head resting against one hand. The book he was reading before set on the blanket in front of him, and the other hand pulling smoothly through dark hair just beyond the edge of his poetry, Aziraphale occasionally looked up to check again if Crowley was waking. 

Yes, and, if Aziraphale had known that the reason he hadn’t noticed Crowley wake in the time that had passed, (which was coming to be what Crowley thought was a very long time indeed,) is that he had never truly fallen asleep in the first place. He had been drowsing, sure, basking, yes, but asleep? Not quite. He hadn’t noticed Aziraphale trying to hand him something until he cracked his eye open at the last second to see him pulling it back and placing it back into their basket. 

He had closed his eyes again, continuing his little snooze until he heard Aziraphale sigh sadly. That was when Crowley had begun truly studying Aziraphale through one barely open eye, (thankfully he had fallen asleep with his sunglasses on.) He watched Aziraphale look at him in such a fond way, a way he had never truly seen before—he may have seen flashes of this in the angel’s features—but never like  _ this _ . It made his heart swell in a way that was pointedly very undemonic of him. 

He waited, focusing on keeping his face as expressionless and breathing as calm as possible. He watched Aziraphale reach out and then pull back, watched him turn with a fist to his head, and watched as he turned back to look at Crowley for comfort. 

For a few moments Crowley debated whether he should pretend to wake up and give him the comfort he was seeking, or stay pretending to be asleep like a bloody coward. The decision to stay motionless was made for him when Aziraphale deftly, and  _ so softly _ pushed some stray hair out of his face. The angel’s eyebrows were pulled together in determination, it was so charmingly  _ Aziraphale _ . 

His hand lingered by Crowley’s face, and he quickly decided to show his feelings in the matter—even if the other still believed him asleep—he pushed his cheek to Aziraphale’s shaking hand with a sigh, a smile almost crossing his lips. Crowley made a long, flustered noise in his head,  _ ‘That was embarrassingly enthusiastic…’  _ He thought, but now very glad that he had stayed put. He then noticed how still Aziraphale’s hand had gone, and he cracked open an eye again to scope out his face. Crowley was once again debating whether he should “wake” and comfort the angel as the other let out a shaky breath. 

Once more though, Crowley was pulled out of having to make that decision when Aziraphale combed his stout fingers through his hair. Crowley had to stifle another sigh from escaping his lungs. Crowley gladly resigned himself to silently enjoy the gentle, rhythmic pull of hands through long tresses. 

After a while, Crowley may or may not have  _ actually _ been lulled to sleep a few times, but he quickly wrenched himself back to consciousness each time, not wanting to miss a single rake of Aziraphale’s hand against his cheek. This was all impossibly affectionate, it really was, and it was almost too much for him to handle. 

* * *

They laid like that for what had felt like hours, until Crowley felt the hand slowly leave his hair and softly close a book next to his ear. He heard a long, soft exhale and felt Aziraphale brush his knuckles tenderly along his cheek, and pull away. Crowley, whined softly and turned his head once more in an attempt to follow the touch. 

He heard Aziraphale let out a whispered, long groan, like he was forcing himself to not reach back out and return to their previous state. After a moment passed, Crowley heard him pick up his book and turn to place it next to the basket beside him, another second passed before he heard the angel’s soft voice murmur a small “Crowley, dear...”

It was painful to pretend to wake to Aziraphale like this, as if nothing had happened. Nonetheless, Crowley opened his eyes fully, moving his head to meet his gaze and pulling his arms up in a long stretch. Crowley looked at him, unsure of what to say, but eventually settled on giving the angel a rare, truly tender smile and greeting him with a small, “Hello, angel.” 

Aziraphale sucked in a quick breath and returned a breathless, “Hello, dear.” They stared at each other for a moment, still caught in the tenderness of the past few long moments. Aziraphale shook his head a bit and straightened his cream-coloured shirt, looking out to the water again. “You’ve been sleeping quite a while, I was worried I might have to leave you here.” Aziraphale jokes and gradually stood with a huff of air.

Crowley watches him brush his hands over the front of his pants, tidying his clothes once more. The sun had moved across the sky significantly from the last time the demon had looked, rays grazing the tops of the trees by now turning the sky a collection of pinks, violets and oranges. The fog turned to more of a thick mist now, settling itself over the surface of the still water and reflecting the sun’s rays in warm, hazy beams. Aziraphale was watching the mist in silence, and Crowley pushed himself up to sit cross-legged beside him. 

“Alright, angel?” Crowley said, looking up at the other’s conflicted expression, which straightened with the demon’s words. 

Aziraphale shifted his gaze from the water with a small smile. “Yes, I’m alright… just thinking, dear.” He took a single step towards the bank before looking down the path to the car park. They were still close enough that Aziraphale could see the lonely Bentley in the distance, Aziraphale hadn’t seen anyone else walking along the path today, and only rarely heard the faint passing of cars from the hilly street they had arrived on. Aziraphale took a few more steps towards the water, scanning the banks of the reservoir for anglers or hikers. When he found there were none to be seen or sensed, he let his shoulders loosen up with a breath and small stretch of his neck.

Crowley watched him in confusion for a few moments, leaning back somewhat in surprise when Aziraphale materialized his wings, large with long tan-and-cream flecked primary feathers that dragged through the damp grass behind him. He gave them an evaluating flap that stirred the air around him, kicking up a bit of dew in a whirlwind that spun away from his legs. Crowley stood up from the blanket, and walked towards the angel. 

Aziraphale turned to look at him as Crowley stepped beside him. Crowley inspected his companion’s wings swiftly before grinning, “Barn owl, eh? They look good, suit you.” He had seen Aziraphale’s wings before, obviously, but not in a very,  _ very _ long time; and once again, thought Crowley, not like  _ this _ . Crowley himself would sometimes materialize his own wings just to give them a good preening, or merely to relieve the discomfort of having them tucked away for so long. 

Angels and demons had the power to manifest their wings in whatever fashion they pleased, usually finding themselves in the mirroring the patterns of earthly creatures or a varied hue of neutral feathers. Most angels tended to stick to the usual doves and golden eagles, or pure white wings that blended with the clouds of heaven; this principle was the same for demons, who typically went for the wings of scavengers like vultures and crows, dark and mysterious. Crowley had experimented with many different looks before, but could never seem to settle on a look for long.

The angel nodded to him, “I usually go in for something more traditional, and admittedly a  _ smidge _ smaller,” flexing his wings behind him a touch, like they were indeed heavier than the angel was used to, “but I rather feel like going for a fly.” Aziraphale shifted his gaze from the swirling mist above the lake to Crowley, to hear his opinion in the matter, it seems.

It took a moment for Crowley to process his words as an invitation, and he jumped as he realized it, letting out a small, “ _Ah, right._ ” before materializing his own wings. Aziraphale watched as Crowley’s wings unfolded and turned out to fall just above the bend of his knees, they were a glossy black for the most part, but Aziraphale noted approvingly that the tops were a bold red, which turned to a band of shining gold a little bit lower down the feathers. 

“Red-winged blackbird,” Aziraphale commented, and Crowley shrugged as he stretched them out for a moment before tucking them back in lazily. Aziraphale chuckled softly, “Those birds are well known for their boldness, chasing away predators five times their size to secure their territory,” Aziraphale watched the scarlet feathers behind Crowley’s wings puff up a bit, and he straightened proudly at the other’s words. Aziraphale stifled a small laugh before continuing, “They’re also known for flaunting their bright shoulders when they’re feeling overly-confident.” 

Crowley gave an offended, “ _ Oi!— _ ” he might have even said more, but Aziraphale pushed off the ground with a bark of laughter and a beat of his large wings, climbing up into the mass of pink-toned fog before he could hear the rest. He pushed through the mist and turned with an artful spin of his wings.  _ God _ , it felt good to fly again. Aziraphale took a deep breath as he hovered above the reservoir, closing his eyes for a moment. 

“Heads up, angel!” Crowley yelled, cackling madly. Aziraphale opened his eyes fast enough to watch the demon shoot up in front of him and ascend higher into the sky with a flash of purple, black and scarlet. After a few seconds, Crowley tucked in his wings and dove backwards, falling back towards the angel head-first. Aziraphale swerved out of the demon’s path as he came plummeting with a loud whoop into the fog. 

He rolled his eyes, though he could hardly deny himself an amused smile at the other’s behavior. Diving was an rarely practiced feature of flying for most celestials, but Crowley was apparently quite fond of it, Aziraphale observed as he circled for a few more rounds of it before flying back to meet the angel breathlessly. “Enjoying yourself, dearest?” he said with a laugh as Crowley returned. 

Aziraphale noted that he had tied up his hair into a ponytail that sat at the crown of his head before taking off, and his locks thrashed behind him with each flap of his wings. “I am,  _ quite thoroughly _ , enjoying myself,” Crowley said, trying to catch his breath, “you’ve  _ got _ to try that— I forgot how refreshing that is.” He finished, hovering in front of Aziraphale. 

“I think that we should both leave the diving to you.” He responded calmly.

“Out of practice angel?” Crowley taunted, moving closer to Aziraphale, “Or too afraid you’ll be shown up?” he finished in a whisper that ghosted the angel’s cheek. His face was so near to Aziraphale’s own. 

The angel reached his hand up to Crowley’s face, hovering above his cheek. The demon seemed to have lost a bit of the smugness from his taunt as his golden eyes stared into Aziraphale’s face. The hand hovering above high cheekbones slowly removed the golden-rimmed sunglasses that perched on Crowley’s nose. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale breathed, clutching the frames in his perfectly manicured hands. “I believe  _ you  _ should be the one fearing of ‘being shown up.’” A wide grin broke out across the angel’s features and suddenly, he burst upwards with a strong beat of his wings. Crowley was knocked off-balance but the abrupt force of wind against him, and as he steadied himself to go after the angel he saw Aziraphale  _ ‘whoosh’ _ past him with the sound of reverberant laughter following. He dove straight down in front of Crowley with an expression of daring freedom spread out on his face, before becoming obscured by the pink mist below. 

Crowley barked a laugh and dove after him. 

Aziraphale snapped his wings outwards to catch him from the dive and looked up to see Crowley plummeting with dark wings tucked in. The angel gripped the frames in his hands still, and with a mischievous grin Aziraphale was off once more, flying along the reservoir’s gleaming surface. He heard Crowley yell out from behind him, “That all you got, angel?”

Aziraphale ascended quickly, waving the sunglasses out towards Crowley as he went. “All that I’ve got, indeed!” he declared with glee as Crowley scaled the air below him. They both climbed through the rosy clouds once more, bursting through them with the spray of mist caught on each feather. 

Aziraphale’s wings were beating almost as fast as his heart was, he felt the fresh thin air fill his lungs and the wind whip his face as he swerved and spun through the air. Every time he turned to see Crowley chasing him with determination his heart fluttered with excitement and adoration. His laughter mixed with Crowley’s as he tailed the angel, gaining speed on the other and matching each twist of Aziraphale’s wings with his own. 

The demon watched as Aziraphale dived once more, catching just above the clouds and looking up to see if he would follow. Crowley paused for a moment, and then flashed a devilish smile to Aziraphale below. Crowley flapped his red-shouldered wings and rose even higher, confusing the angel below. As the demon reached his peak his wings snapped outwards, arms thrown out wide and legs pointed down to the earth so far below. The sun shown behind his silhouette and Aziraphale watched the small wings at his back grow into something much larger. 

Crowley had heard something a while ago about peregrine falcons being the fastest birds—well, fastest animal in general, actually—especially when diving. He thought it quite suitable to give their wings a try, in fact; he tried them out immediately. His wings pulled in close to his back, slitted eyes focused on the stunned angel below him and heart beating against the cage of his chest.

Aziraphale watched the demon accelerate impossibly to meet him, and for a moment he forgot about the chase completely; as a matter of fact, it was only when Crowley was about three-quarters of the way down to him that he remembered. He flitted quickly out of the demon’s path with a squeak. Crowley fanned out his wings to stop his trajectory just before he collided with Aziraphale’s stunned form. 

He eventually came to a halt a ways below Aziraphale, below the mist once more. Aziraphale slowly fluttered down to meet him, and Crowley watched fondly as he descended from the clouds. He lifted his arms up to receive Aziraphale. With a short laugh, the angel lowered into them as they came to face each other. Crowley’s hands settled on Aziraphale’s hips, pulling him gently in, Aziraphale’s own hands came to rest on either one of his shoulders. 

They were both breathless and open-mouthed, heartbeats thrumming through every part of them. The sun was shining bright beams of orange and gold across their faces, hovering above the dark water below. 

They stayed for a moment, catching their breath before Crowley spoke, “I’ve never seen you like that before,” Aziraphale’s breath hitched as he heard the words. “You were… carefree.” Crowley chuckled as he spoke. 

Aziraphale beamed softly at Crowley and gave a laugh of his own, “It feels good.” he sighed, eyes twinkling in the setting sun. His face was red from the wind and soft lips were pink and full around a blinding smile. Crowley had never seen the angel look more beautiful. He was sure of it. He squeezed the angel’s soft sides, “It  _ looks _ good. Carefree suits you, angel.” Crowley felt a sappy smile slide into place on his own features, but he didn’t have the heart to shoo it away right now, his heart was completely focused on  _ Aziraphale. _

The angel remembered the sunglasses in his hand, and he placed them softly atop Crowley’s head. He then shifted his hands down and around Crowley’s neck, interlacing each stout finger and brushing his dark feathers slightly as he did. His face shifted into fondness. “A peregrine falcon,” he started, eyes drifting along Crowley’s strong, flapping wings, “I think you win this one dear, you caught me fair-and-square.” Aziraphale laughed as he looked at Crowley once more. 

“Caught you, angel? You came down here yourself!” Crowley said incredulously before carrying on with amusement, “You stole my sunglasses and you had me chase you all about the sky, and you’re telling me I win this one?” He laughed, “Oh no, angel. This one’s all you.” 

Aziraphale’s heart was about to overflow with the adoration he felt. His fingers cradled Crowley’s nape softly as he stared into tender, golden eyes. “We’ll call it a draw then…” Aziraphale whispered as his eyes flickered down to look at Crowley’s slightly parted lips. He realized how close they were now, lips only inches apart. “Oh, fuck it.” he said quietly as he swiftly pressed their lips together.

Crowley instantly wrapped his slender arms around the angel, feeling the whirlwind created by their wings sweep them both up as he kissed back with fervor. Crowley tilted his head to deepen the kiss with a soft moan spilling into Aziraphale’s mouth. Aziraphale’s hand tangled into the hair at the base of Crowley’s neck and kissed him passionately, Crowley bit his lip softly and slid his forked tongue against the angel’s own. It was decidedly Aziraphale’s turn to let out a moan against the other’s mouth, and with this, Aziraphale’s wings faltered slightly. 

Crowley held Aziraphale solidly to make up for this, but they parted breathlessly nonetheless. Aziraphale chuckled and pressed their foreheads together gently, “Perhaps we should continue on the  _ land. _ ” he said, restoring his wings’ sturdy rhythm. 

Crowley smiled and nodded dreamily, slipping his slender fingers out from behind Aziraphale and into the other’s soft hands. “Sounds good to me, angel.” He led them both back to the bank of the reservoir, coming to land gently just before the spread of their shorty-forgotten picnic. As they found their footing, Crowley gently pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, more soft and chaste than their previous kisses. It was short and sweet but full of as much love as both could muster, their hands still intertwined.

The demon pulled back slowly with a sigh, his free hand coming to rest on Aziraphale’s hip once more. Aziraphale’s own slid up to caress Crowley’s cheek, the serpent leaning into the touch. The angel lifted their interlocked hands, kissing the back of Crowley’s hand firmly and muttering into his skin.

“What was that, angel?” Crowley smiled, looking at the angel’s serene face in front of him. 

Aziraphale smoothed his thumb over his cheek. “I said,  _ ‘I love you,’ _ dear. So much.” 

The angel took up the demon in a reverent embrace, Crowley let out a small, surprised noise and watched his vision become slightly blurred with emotion. He clutched at Aziraphale happily as he took a shuddering breath, “G-Sat-Ah...Aziraphale. I—” He sniffed softly, “I love you too...” He tucked his face into golden curls and huffed a small laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say that.” He tightened his grip around the angel’s waist. 

Aziraphale tangled his hands in Crowley’s hair, planting a smattering of kisses on his cheeks. “Don’t ever hesitate to say it again.” declared the angel lovingly. Their lips rejoined, both of their wings had dematerialized at some point in all of this and the fog that had hung in the air had finally dissipated completely. The sunset scattered red and orange rays across them, draping warmth across the bank. 

After a moment they parted once more and Aziraphale was overwhelmed with the crashing waves of love radiating off of Crowley’s being. He stole a final quick kiss to his mouth before turning his head towards their picnic and snapped his fingers to send it packing to the Bentley’s backseat. “Let’s go home, Crowley.” They took each other’s hands and started off towards the car park once more.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you again for reading my fic! I really hope you liked it and I did the lads justice!!! stay safe and healthy everyone!


End file.
